


A Moment For

by cable69



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cable69/pseuds/cable69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A/N: Taking a break from finishing Enterprise High and also sorting through the really interesting porn dungeon that is the Firefly fandom to write this. General slash/het (Kirk/Spock, Sulu/Chekov, Uhura/Gaila, Bones/Chapel, Scotty/sandwiches). Short, weird, and typical. Also medieval. And a bit fluffy. And a bit sexy. Not much in the way of plot."</p><p>Originally posted on ff.net; unedited</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment For

“I think we should all take a moment for,” Kirk says.

There’s a long stretch of nothing.

“A moment for…?” Uhura prompts him, arms crossed over her chest.

Kirk strokes his chin. “A moment for the Federation,” he says, hiking the goblet into the air. “Peace and security. Not to mention paved roads. Cheers.”

Spock comes as close to rolling his eyes as he ever will. Everybody drinks.

“We should go soon,” says Sulu. He doesn’t look like he can go anywhere soon, not with Chekov wrapped around him like that. Uhura, glancing over, is not immediately convinced they’re decent. Spock, again, comes dangerously close to having an expression.

“We should,” Kirk agrees sadly. 

Gaila is pretty sad about this. She’s really in to fantasy books, and to her mind, this looks exactly like a lord’s keep ought. There are high stone walls illuminated by flickering torches, a dias for the nobility, massive piles of roasted pig, jugs of mead, cauldrons of stew, and platters of fruit. And everybody is in period get-up. Uhura is comely in a high lady’s gown. Kirk is sprawling in a jester’s uniform. Bones is stiff in a lord’s armor.

And her favorite part is her own outfit. Serving wench through-and-through.

Scotty, obviously, has contrived to find mayonnaise in what equates roughly to twelfth century France and has almost finished constructing a roast beef sandwich. “We can’t go yet!” he protests. “Ah haven’t found th’ right cheese!”

“Munester?” Chekov offers.

“Munester?” Scotty gasps, horrified. “W’ roast beef? Lord!” He pauses. “Alright, ah’ll try it. Pass that plate over, lad.”

“Weirdest planet I’ve been on in a while,” Uhura mutters to Gaila. “You sent the readings to the databanks, right?”

“Oh yeah, an hour ago,” says Gaila, adjusting her breasts. They have to be just so in a dress like this. She looks up to find Uhura staring.

“Best planet, though,” Uhura adds. 

“Captain,” says Spock, taking Kirk oh-so-delicately by the arm and lifting him easily to a standing position. “Shall we depart?”

“Oh, if you say,” says Kirk sadly. “Do you think they’re on their way back?”

“Undoubtedly,” says Spock, nostrils flaring. “We do not want to break the Prime Directive.” He pauses for a bit of an eyebrow twitch. “Any more than we already have.”

“Ah, we’re fine,” says Kirk, shoving Spock away. Spock can smell the alcohol on Kirk’s breath. “Now, I’m not saying this was a good idea, but it was fun.”

Spock glares at Kirk for a surprisingly long time. “Yes,” he says finally, relaxing his tight fists. “It was fun.” It almost hurts to say it. But not quite.

It had been Chekov’s idea. The shore leave planet was actually part native—the other continent from the one Starfleet crews holidayed on was inhabited by ocean-fearing medievalists who jousted and sewed tapestries, crusaded and mulled mead. Chekov had said, “Well, we should go there! We haf a shuttle, we can leaf before they see us.”

They have brought their own food and their own clothes. They have simply claimed the castle for a bit. It is all incredibly irresponsible. It is all absolutely against the law. Spock had nearly had an aneurism when it’d been first suggested. 

And of course it has been wonderful fun.

“A moment for,” Gaila says, rising her goblet, “this castle.”

“Aye!” calls Scotty.

“And a moment for my crew,” Gaila says, wrapping her arm around Uhura’s waist. Uhura lets out this bubble of a giggle, light on mead, and tips her goblet against Gaila’s. Chapel, sprawled across a table in front of Bones, headbutts him because she dropped her goblet on the floor ages ago. Bones lets out a guffaw, smacks her on the ass, and pecks her cheek.

“Leaving now,” says Kirk. He produces a remote out of somewhere and the android they liberated from the shore leave headquarters pops out of a nook and starts cleaning everything up. Scotty hastily shoves his sandwich into a napkin and tucks it in his pocket. Gaila has a tug-of-war battle with the android until it lets her finish her goblet of mead.

They scurry outside and cram themselves into the shuttle. Federation shuttles are only meant to hold seven, so nine plus an android isn’t ideal—or it wouldn’t be if everybody wasn’t sitting on everybody else’s lap (Scotty pulls the android onto him with a chortle). Sulu and Spock are doing their best to pilot, but Chekov and Kirk, the devious men they are, are giving them other ideas. “We shall crash,” Spock warns, dire, as Kirk nuzzles his neck. He tries to ignore the goosebumps that spread right down his back, and the twinge low in his belly. Kirk laughs gently in his ear, and it’s like his skin is on fire.

Bones and Chapel are leaning over the life signs monitor, reading the feeds. They’re good at focusing in distracting situations. Chapel loves the way Bones’s shoulders look in the armor. It’s fake plate, more like puffed-up plastic, but it clangs real, bless the replicators. She runs her fingers down his back and he can’t feel it. She half likes it—she can touch him intimately, observantly, without him knowing. But she half hates it. That touch generally makes him squirm. She sticks her hand where the armor isn’t and is rewarded with an undignified twitch. “Woman,” Bones growls, flipping the life signs monitor shut. “I’m workin’ here.”

“As am I,” says Chapel, giving her fingers a twist. Bones lets out a little noise. There isn’t much room in the aisle, but it’s enough.

Gaila and Uhura are supposed to be making sure the android has safely stowed their picnic, but they got a little distracted. Uhura fully approves of Gaila’s dress. “So modest,” she murmurs into Gaila’s green bosom. “So unlike you, Gaila, dear.”

“I am nothing,” gasps Gaila, understandably distracted by Uhura’s exploratory fingers, “if not m-modest. Ah.”

“I do not like these laces, though,” says Uhura, a purse on her lips as she sits back to survey them.

“I can get that for you—oh—here let me,” Gaila burbles, hands flying.

It’s quite a miracle they land in one piece. Well, not really; autopilot was on the whole time, so it’s okay that Sulu is so not paying attention during landing. 

“Let’s have a moment for that picnic,” Uhura calls as the door slides open. Gaila is passed out on the seat next to her. She only sees the tops of everybody else’s heads.

“Other people are havin’ moments of their own,” Bones offers. “Good thought, though.”

“Ah will see you lot later,” Scotty laughs, tugging the android out the door. “Me and my lady need a reunion.” He heads off towards the Enterprise. Kirk laughs from the front.

“It’s good I’m not a jealous man,” he comments to Spock, who is fixing his hair in the shiny control panel.

“Quite,” murmurs Spock, obviously not paying attention. Kirk solves that problem. He pulls Spock down from the shuttle, murmuring a farewell to everyone else, and they go back to their rooms.

By morning the shuttle is empty but for some alarming stains that the bots take care of. Everybody shows up at breakfast pink-cheeked and a little achy. There’s a moment when they’re all sitting, just before they about to eat, that they share one big glance; and then the moment passes and they dig into their toast and tea and breakfast tacos. 

“Good shore leave,” comments Gaila.

Spock says, “I am inclined to agree.”

They’ll drink to that.


End file.
